Girly Issues, Girly Solutions
by RadianceRose
Summary: Kyle has some questions about a guy asking someone to a Sadie Hawkins dance, and Wendy has some teasing and historical facts. Ike is an alarm clock, Butters gets his first kiss, and Wendy is totally NOT dating Cartman.Lot of Style, Bunny, Candy and others
1. Chapter 1: Girl Talk

On the afternoon of February the Ninth, Kyle Broflovski sat at home on his bed thinking. His homework lay undone on his desk, despite having been home from school several hours. For many, this wouldn't have been the least bit strange, but Kyle was one of those weird people who actually liked studying and got really excited by the notion of good grades. He didn't even need a reward from his parents like some kids did, he honest to God enjoyed it.

Normally at six o'clock on a school night, Kyle would have been through his regular homework and working on some project or another, but instead, he was just sitting on his bed, a shoddily made poster perched on his pillow, staring at the poster and thinking.

Kyle had tried to tell himself that this wasn't an issue. That it was just some stupid thing that had crossed his mind and that he should shake it off. But, of course, he had over thought it and now it wouldn't go away. And so, Kyle just stared at the poster, thinking.

Of course, Kyle knew, Valentine's was coming up soon, which meant the Valentine's Day dance, like it did every year. And of course, like every year, it was a Sadie Hawkins dance: girls in control and guys just helpless pawns hoping to get asked. In past years, this kind of thing had never been a problem. Freshman year, he hadn't really liked anyone, so he was sort of relieved to not be asked. In fact, he'd relished the Sadie Hawkins dance the previous year because it meant that he didn't have to worry about his friends trying to talk him into asking various girls he didn't like out.

But this year… well, Kyle was just confused. He'd mulled it over for hours, but he couldn't think of a single solution. Finally, he picked up the phone and called Wendy, otherwise known as the only person in their graduating class who was possibly smarter than him. Or at least as studious. Kyle hoped that counted for something. And besides, Wendy was a girl, so she would know how to deal with, although Kyle hated to admit that that was what they were, girly issues.

"Hey, Kyle!"

"Uh, hey Wendy." Kyle shuffled uncomfortably and played with the corner of the poster.

"What's up?" she asked. "Need help with some homework or something?" The teasing edge in her voice was barely detectable, but it was there.

Kyle couldn't help but laugh a little, "No," he told her. "I actually wanted to ask you a question about…" he paused, not sure how bet to put it.

"Yeah?" Wendy prompted impatiently. "Look, Kyle," she said after a few moments of silence went by, "I haven't got all day to listen to nothing coming out of a phone. If I wanted to do that I'd call Cartman."

Kyle laughed, "No, I just…" he trailed off again, unable to finish the sentence.

"Oh, come on, Kyle," Wendy groaned in a tone of voice that very clearly stated that she was rolling her eyes. "Just get out with it already. I have an essay to write for Lit. I wasn't kidding about not having all day. "

_Bet you weren't kidding about calling Cartman either, _Kyle thought, but he kept it to himself. He needed Wendy's advice and he knew better than to bring up Wendy and Cartman's non-dating. "Fine. Um. It's about the dance, actually," he finally managed.

"Oh." Wendy sounded surprised. "Are you asking me for advice or asking me out?" she said. "Because I'm actually going with someone already and I would really hate to h-"

Kyle cut her off, "Look, calm down Wendy, I'm not asking you out. Besides, it's a Sadie Hawkins dance."

"Oh, yeah," Wendy mumbled, almost inaudibly, "I totally knew that…"

"I know," Kyle said. "Actually, that's what I was going to ask about."

"Sadie Hawkins?" Wendy asked. "You didn't want to look it up online or something? Is you internet broken or did you really want to talk to me or maybe-"

Kyle cut her off again, knowing that she would go on and on and on all night if he didn't stop her and a certain Fatass would be very disappointed if that was allowed to happen. "No, I know who Sadie Hawkins was. Suffragette, feminist, hence why they call a female dictated dance a Sadie Hawkins dance."

"Mmm-hmm," Wendy said, and then cursed much more vividly than Kyle would have thought someone would want to over not getting to tell someone about Sadie Hawkins.

"What?" Kyle asked.

"Oh nothing, just dropped a stapler on my foot."

Kyle winced. He'd done that before. More than once. Klutzyness was just one of those traits that seemed to be hereditary for Jews. Like weird senses of humour and weird noses. And complaining, or kvetching, as his mother and extended family put it. Apparently, having a nice ass was a recurring trait too, but…

"Kyle?"

"Oh, sorry, just thinking about dropping things and family traits. Guess I kinda spaced out."

Wendy sighed. "So, if you know who Sadie Hawkins was and you don't need help on your homework then why'd you call?"

"I was wondering," Kyle paused, gnawing his lip nervously and continuing, "I was wondering what you think the etiquette would be if one guy wanted to ask another guy to a Sadie Hawkins dance. You know, because it's like, the girl's supposed to ask and stuff and if there's no girl then, well, you know…"

There was an almost tangible pause, and then Wendy burst out laughing. Kyle turned bright red and thanked God that he was just talking on the phone so that Wendy couldn't see the incredible colour his face had assumed. _Crazy intense blushing_, Kyle noted, adding it to the list of Jewish Hereditary Traits.

"Kyle, you are SUCH a dork."

"I know, I know," Kyle mumbled, embarrassed. "Can you just answer the question?"

"And why, exactly do you think I would know how to deal with something like that?"

"Well…" Kyle faltered. That was a good question, actually. Why had he thought Wendy would know how to deal with how to ask another guy to a Sadie Hawkins dance if you were a guy? Being as Wendy was neither a guy, nor gay, although she had at one point dated Bebe…

"Well?"

"I dunno, you just seem knowledgeable, I guess."

Wendy laughed. "I'm flattered. Anyway, I don't know. I guess it would just be anything goes. Unless," she paused to shift the phone to her other ear, "unless one guy was established as the more feminine type and the other was more masculine. But then again, I can't see how that pertains to you and Stan, you're both pretty much normal guys, neither one of you goes around in dresses or anything like that."

Kyle blushed redder than his hair. I mean, it was pretty obvious that that was what he was talking about, but coming right out and saying it was still embarrassing. "Uh, yeah, thanks Wendy. I should, um, I should call Stan, I guess."

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, you go girl," she said, inducing an even deeper shade of red than Kyle had previously thought possible.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"See you later." The phone line went dead and Kyle snapped shut his phone and set it on his pillow next to the poster. He sighed. Then he got up and went to the bathroom. And then, he went downstairs and helped Ike with his homework. And then did his homework. And cleaned the bathroom. And made dinner. And washed the dishes. And cleaned the bathroom again.

Finally, Kyle trudged back upstairs, satisfied that he had managed to spend the last five hours during the time at which Stan would be reachable by phone accomplishing things.

With a sigh, Kyle removed the poster from his pillow, tucking it underneath his bed and taking out his diary. It was girly to keep a diary, but it was something he'd gotten used to. Besides, it wasn't like he wrote "Dear Diary" and talked about his gushy feelings. Not that writing his entries like letters addressed to his imaginary friend, Arthur, was much better.

Finished with his letter to Arthur, Kyle yawned and tucked away the diary, settling into his comforter and drifting off to sleep.

---

**Author's Drabble:** So... here it is. The beginning of my first fanfiction ever. Based on me wondering what gay guys at our school are going to do about asking people to the Sadie Hawkins dance. And my love of Ike. So... Yeah. I hope it's good, I like how it's coming out. A chapter two is on the way soon, which will have lots and lots and lots of Broflovski brothers and a little bit of sillyness. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it two or three chapters, but it's all planned out pretty much. I just dunno if I wanna stick some random other stuff in there. Kinda do. But I dunno. Might have a way to get more Wendy and Ike in than there already is, which would buy more words, and as I know from NaNoWriMo, all words are good words and all words count. Oh, and the Candy wasn't supposed to be there. It snuck in. I just got turned on to that pairing from another fic I was reading, and honestly, it's hilarious. It's way too much fun to play with to resist on grounds of disliking Cartman!

Um. That indeed WAS a drabble. In any case, I'll have this done by Valentine's day, and by this I mean the whole story. I guess that's my V-day art. Soyeah. Hope you enjoyed this and hope you read more! Please review, it would be ever so helpful for moi, ze beginning fanfic writer. Next up: lots of Ike Broflovski and some more girly Kyle!


	2. Chapter 2: A Normal School Day Morning

Kyle Broflovski had the most annoying alarm clock in the world. This particular alarm clock would never break, could not be unplugged or silenced and was always coming up with new and painful ways to get Kyle out of bed. The alarm clock's name was Ike Broflovski, Kyle's younger brother, child prodigy. No matter what state Kyle, South Park or the world was in, Ike was there, waking Kyle up every single morning at precisely 6:00 am.

On that particular morning, the morning of February the 10th, Kyle's very special alarm clock decided to use his peacefully sleeping older brother's slightly out-of-control hair as a throne. As a result, Kyle was woken up at six o'clock on February the 10th by Ike's bony butt crushing into his forehead.

"Oy," Kyle groaned sleepily, "gerrof my face." Or at least, that's what he tried to say. Due to the sweatpants and lower half of a nine-year-old being positioned over his face and therefore mouth, Kyle's words came out more like a very muffled 'guff mrph foo', which didn't really make any sense at all. Of course, being a child prodigy, which mean that he had to be at least sort of smart, Ike was only pretending not to understand his older brother.

Kyle tried again. "Ike, get the fuck off of my head right now or I swear to God I'll get 'kick the 4th grader' sworn in as an Olympic sport."

"What'd you say, Kyle?" Ike asked, giggling.

"I said," he paused to give the dark haired nine-year-old a shove, "get the off my fucking face, Ike!" Ike tumbled to the ground in a giggling and very undignified and unprodigylike heap.

"Well why didn't you just say so before?" he asked innocently.

Kyle rolled his eyes in frustration. "I did, you little fucker, and you heard me."

Ike pouted. "That's not very nice of you to say," he pointed out.

"Yeah well," Kyle frowned, "you should be used to it. Sitting on my head with that stupid bony Canadian butt of yours isn't very nice either."

"True, I suppose. And don't worry, I'm already used to it," Ike informed his older brother, pout swapped for a grin only a 4th grader could give. "But you're up now, anyway, and that's what matters."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for getting me up without breaking any bones, Ike," Kyle mumbled, "You want me to walk with you like usual, right?"

Ike nodded. "And you want me to make breakfast, like usual?"

Kyle nodded vigorously and Ike giggled. "What?" Kyle asked. "You think having this big of an appetite is funny?"

"No," Ike said with another giggle, "only the way your hair moves when you nod before you brush it in the mornings."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Get out. I have to change and you have to make some breakfast."

"Yup!" Ike exclaimed, and bounded out the door and down the stairs to go prepare some food.

Amongst the many things that Ike was a prodigy at, cooking seemed by far the most useful and awesome. The kid loved it, and everything he made tasted positively divine.

In many ways, Kyle envied his adopted brother, Ike the prodigy. Kyle had always been a smart kid, but he was never as smart as Ike was. And he couldn't cook. I mean, he wasn't as a bad of a cook as Stan, or say, Tweek, but he couldn't really cook anything that hadn't, like, come out of a box. Ike, however, was almost at Mrs. Cartman level, which was commonly acknowledged as the most high and godly level of culinary skill. But if he thought about it, Kyle was much more glad to have Ike be his brother than he ever envied him anything.

Even if he didn't always show it, Kyle loved Ike more than anyone else in his family. In fact, Kyle loved Ike more than anyone in the entire world, although Stan was a close second. A VERY close second.

That reminded him… he was supposed to have called Stan last night. Something about… oh yeah. Kyle slapped his forehead with his palm. _Jewish Hereditary Trait: forehead slapping when you remember something you had forgotten, like someone's name, a phone call or some very old knishes. _

"Oy vey," he said softly, "the Sadie Hawkins dance." _Oh well,_ Kyle thought, _it doesn't really matter. I'll just talk to him about it at school today. _

"Kyle!" Ike called, interrupting Kyle's reverie. "C'mon, Kyle, breakfast's ready: I made omelets!"

Kyle got up quickly from where he was still sitting on his bed and rushed about the bathroom, tidying his curly hair a little and changing his shirt. He grabbed a thin, silver chain with a tiny porcelain and silver pendant dangling from it from off his bedside table and clasped it around his neck, the tiny, dainty star falling just below the collar of his shirt. He untucked it so that the blue and silver magen was clearly visible, then slipped his arms into the sleeves one of Stan's jackets, which he'd left at Kyle's house a few days previous.

"Be right down, Ike!" Kyle called back as he seized his back pack and flicked off the lamp on his bedside table. For something else, Kyle might not have hurried so much, but this was omelets. Everything Ike cooked was amazing, but his omelets… were, well, divine. But every second that they were allowed to cool down took away some of the godliness, so it was only a matter of time before they became just fantastic, and THAT was something Kyle didn't want to risk. Since Ike had learned how to cook, Kyle had been able to sympathize with Cartman more, at least about eating.

o o o

Kyle sat down to breakfast at around 6:45 am, just as his parents were first stirring and thinking of getting up. He settled into his usual place, across the table from Ike and dug into his potato, leek and basil omelet with the kind of voracious appetite that only a slightly nervous teenage boy can have without being starved for several weeks. A few minutes and a half an omelet later, he paused to try to actually chew his food (which is, of course, a joke, he had been chewing, just quickly. But that's really not the point.).

"Hey, Ike," Kyle asked, cutting off another piece of omelet and placing it delicately into his mouth.

"Yeah?" Ike mumbled through a mouthful of egg, cheese and potato.

"Uh, what're you reading?"

"Um. Othello."

"Oh, neat. I didn't really get into Shakespeare until middle school."

Ike grinned childishly, "That's why I'm the prodigy and you're just my brother," he said.

Kyle glowered at him across the table with faux animosity. The two engaged in an impromptu staring contest, each looking comically caustic and straight-faced. A few minutes later, Ike returned to his book, still staring at his brother, then, suddenly stuck out his tongue over the edge of his Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Kyle cracked up. It was hard for the two to even pretendto be angry at each other for very long. "You done?" Kyle asked as he finished the last drop of milk from the carton.

Ike nodded.

"Okay, then you just get your stuff and I'll clean up. Then we can go."

"'Kay," he said and hopped down out of his chair. It was sort of sad how short Ike was and Kyle couldn't help but laugh at the height difference once he was out of the booster seat their mom had installed in Ike's chair so he could reach the table easier.

As Ike gathered his school things, Kyle cleared off the table, leaving his parent's omelets on the table for when they finally admitted that they were awake. By seven o'clock, the Broflovski brothers were ready to go.

"Don't forget your jacket, Ike," Kyle teased, "it might get cold today." The joke was an old one. As anyone who spent even five minutes in South Park knew, it was ALWAYS cold.

Ike grinned. "I don't know, Kyle," he said, eyes wide in mock sincerity, and peeped out the window onto the snowy lawn. "It looks like it's going to be sunny today."

"I know it does now, Ike," Kyle said, fighting laughter (a joke with your little brother as old as this one never actually gets old), "but there might be snow later or something, so you should probably bring it."

"You're right." Ike wrapped a long, blue scarf around his neck and grabbed his big brother's hand, tugging him towards the door. "Come on. I wanna get there a little early."

Kyle opened the door and raised a single, red eyebrow.

Ike blushed.

"Who is it?" Kyle asked as they stepped out the door. "She cute? I mean, assuming it's a girl."

Ike made a face. "Of course!"

"Not of course, you didn't learn the whole 'liking girls' thing from me."

"Nope, I guess not," Ike giggled. "But no, she's not cute. She's BEAUTIFUL." He drew out the syllables for emphasis like any typical elementary-schooler describing his first crush. "Although…" his eyes glinted mischievously as he paused to glance at Kyle, "she's not as pretty as Stan."

Kyle glared at him. "You know, I wasn't kidding about the whole 'making kick the 4th grader an Olympic sport' thing."

"I wasn't kidding about Stan being pretty."

Kyle laughed. "Ike, you fag."

Ike stuck out his tongue impishly. "You too."

The Broflovski brothers chatted idly for the next few minutes when Kyle realized that his prodigal brother had once again steered the conversation away from a subject he didn't want to talk about. "Well," he said, interrupting Ike mid-sentence, "you sure know how to steer a conversation, don't you, Ike?"

"Yup," Ike said, smiling a lop-sided smile only a 4th grader could give.

"So," Kyle grinned at Ike and tousled his black hair, "who is she?"

Ike glowered at him. He'd been trying so hard to make sure he wouldn't have to tell.

"Oh, come on, you know who I like."

"Everyone in South Park knows who you like, Kyle," Ike pointed out, causing Kyle to mutter something under his breath about suffragettes. "But okay," he relented, "I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell Kenny."

"Gee, I dunno Ike, I was really looking forward to letting him know who my little brother has his eyes on. I thought maybe he could give you some relationship pointers," Kyle replied sarcastically. "Can I tell, say, Stan, then?"

Ike frowned. "No. No telling anyone. Promise pinky swear?"

Kyle sighed. "Promise pinky swear."

"Good."

"So?"

"Um. Katie." Ike blushed a deep red, like a diminutive black-topped strawberry.

Kyle nodded. That made sense. Now he understood why Ike didn't want him talking about it with Kenny. Not that he would anyway. He grinned. "Well, personally, speaking as your brother, I think you could do a lot better."

Ike glowered moodily and refused to talk to him for the next few minutes, walking a little bit ahead and kicking at the snow.

"Oh, come on Ike, I was only kidding!" Kyle said finally, covering the distance between himself and the small Canadian boy ahead of him. "Besides, it's not like I'm the world's leading expert in pretty girls, even if I do top the list of 'Nicest Asses in South Park'," Kyle winked and Ike giggled.

"Nope, not really," Ike agreed. "I'll see you later, okay? Bye, bye!"

Kyle hadn't really noticed that they had already arrived in front of the yellow brick building in which he had spent five of the strangest years of his life. He smiled and bent over to encompass his adopted little brother in a goodbye hug.

"Oy! Kyle get off me!" Ike tried kicking Kyle away. "Stop it!"

"Alright! Alright! What, scared your little girlfriend's going to see you giving your big brother a hug and think you're a pussy or something?" Kyle teased, relenting and giving him a playful shove towards the school playground where a blond girl wearing a very familiar parka, hood down, stood waving at Ike with mittened hands.

Ike began to rush off towards her, but turned around at the last minute to give Kyle a quick hug as if to prove that he didn't care who thought he was a pussy. Or maybe it was just because he was nervous. "Hey Katie!" he called, promptly tripping over his long scarf and falling directly into the snow at the girl's feet. Kyle grinned.

Kenny's little sister WAS cute, in her own little girl kind of way, and she seemed to like Ike almost as much as he liked her. Kyle watched the pair for a few minutes, seeing Ike scream like a little girl when Katie slipped some sort of insect down his shirt and then flush like a raspberry after she said something that, although he didn't hear it, Kyle could only assume had been learned from her older brother.

The elder Broflovski brother adjusted the strap of his backpack and continued walking the last few blocks to South Park High School. In a town like South Park, where everyone was practically neighbors and everything was within walking distance of everything else, it didn't take long to get from one place to another. Not to mention that South Park Elementary was literally three block's from Kyle's high school.

He smiled, glancing back at the playground. He remembered when his classmates had had their first crushes and started dating, right around 4th grade. Kyle himself hadn't actually liked anyone until right around 7th grade, but some of his friends had. Clyde had dated Bebe, Token had went out with Heidi and Stan, of course, had been on and off with Wendy all the way up through 8th grade. Something about the way he'd seen Ike and Katie around each other reminded him of Wendy and Stan. Did that mean that Ike was destined to finally fall for his best friend? Maybe. _Don't give up yet, Fillmore,_ Kyle thought with a chuckle.

When Kyle looked up next, he realized that he had arrived at school. Walking through the doors of SPHS and narrowly dodging a flaming soccer ball that went speeding out the door past his head, he looked around, trying to find Stan to see if he could draw him aside before classes started so he wouldn't have to deal with the anxiety all day. Kyle was pretty sure what Stan was going to say, but he was still nervous.

He looked about, but there was no sign of Stan anywhere. Maybe he was sick? Nah, he would've called to let him know if he wasn't coming to school.

"Hey Kyle!" the voice belonged to Rebecca, who had, coincidentally, been the first person he'd ever asked out. He'd taken her to Homecoming the previous year.

"Hi Rebecca. You seen Stan yet today?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Nope. Have you seen Annie?"

"Not yet."

Rebecca frowned. So did Kyle. "Oh well, good luck anyhow, Kyle. I really have to find her," she said, and then turned and walked away quickly, looking all around in quest of the short haired blond.

A few moments later, Kyle was interrupted by Kenny, who basically walked into him while tucking a box of cloth band aids back into his backpack.

"Hey Kenny, how're you?" Kyle asked. Asking Kenny how he was was actually a pretty stupid question once you thought about it. Even if Kenny was doing great, the odds were that he would be seriously injured, sick or dead within a few hours.

Kenny zipped up his backpack and looked up. "Pretty fucking okay, I guess. Although, it would be fucking awesome if I could get through one fucking date without getting fucking killed."

Kyle laughed. This was a long standing problem with Kenny, and one that he seemed to have pretty much gotten used to. Kyle had to wonder if maybe his frequent deaths were part of the reason he was such a 'take whatever you can get/anything goes' kind of guy. Maybe he would've turned out as a little less of a whore if he'd had enough time to cultivate a relationship before he died again. "Oh well," Kyle said. "Better luck next time, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess," Kenny said with a rueful half-smile. "Too bad too, she was really cute."

"Who was it?"

Kenny winked, "Only the cutest girl in town," he said, "Marjorine."

Kyle laughed for a solid minute. "Now THAT is something I'd like to see with my own two eyes. He wear the dress and pigtails and everything?"

"Oh come on, Kyle, you're just jealous."

"Well did he?"

"No."

"You seem disappointed."

Kenny winked and spun around towards where Butters was fumbling with the combination lock on his locker. "Don't say anything," he mouthed silently to Kyle, then tiptoed over and snuck up behind the innocent blond. Before he turned away, Kyle caught a glimpse of Kenny goosing the poor boy and scaring him nearly out of his pants, which, come to think of it, was probably his agenda in the first place.

"Oh g-g-gosh, Kenny, I don't think you should do that here."

Kenny grinned and placed a hand on either side of Butter's hips, facing him. "Oh really?" he said, leaning so close to the stuttering boy that their noses touched.

Butters turned beet red. "P-please, Kenny."

"Fine, Butters. But you owe me later." He winked impishly and turned around. Butters sighed in relief, just a moment too soon. Kenny wheeled around and planted a quick kiss right on his lips. Butters' face was the most incredible crimson blend of happiness and shocked horror Kyle had ever seen. "See you later, Buttery," Kenny said airily, not realizing that he'd probably just given Butters his first kiss.

Kyle laughed. There couldn't be a more mismatched couple.

"Don't you even fucking LOOK at me, Fatass!"

"Not like I'd even want to, you stupid ho!"

"Like I'd ever go out with you!"

"Like I'd ever ask you!"

"Good!" Wendy screamed, "Because I wouldn't go even if you did!"

"Fine!" Cartman shouted. "Because I definitely won't be going to Tweek Coffee this weekend, not even once!"

Wendy planted her feet and glared at Cartman. "And I won't be there at noon on Saturday! I never go there on Saturdays EVER!"

"Well me neither!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Kyle closed his locker and chuckled as Cartman and Wendy stomped off in opposite directions. _Okay,_ he thought, _so there IS a more mismatched couple than Kenny and Butters._ Just then, Wendy stalked passed him grumbling something under her breath about chauvinist pigs and coffee, her face flushed a deep, almost purple red, although whether that was from anger or the anxiety of negotiating a date Kyle had no idea.

"Oh, hey Kyle," she said, realizing she'd just walked by him (stomped, really) without even saying hello. "Hey," he replied, struggling not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, eyes flashing, still menacing and full of doom from her encounter with Cartman.

"Nothing, nothing."

"That's right." Wendy paused. "So, how'd it go?" she asked, her tone taking a 180.

Kyle looked at her quizzically. "Huh? How'd what go?"

Wendy frowned at him, hands on hips. "You didn't call him and ask him last night, did you?"

Kyle blushed and shook his head. "I kind of, um, procrastinated. I'm actually looking for him right now."

"Chicken," Wendy muttered. "Look, I have class to get to right now, and you're going to find Stan and ask him to that stupid dance before the next time I talk to you again. Okay?"

Kyle nodded.

"Good luck," Wendy said, grinning. "Girlfriend."

Kyle glared playfully at her. "Yeah, yeah, now stop calling me a girl."

"Well, Kylena, you ARE asking a guy to a Sadie Hawkins dance." She winked. "See you later!"

Kyle scanned the halls again. By the drinking fountain, Token and Clyde seemed to be bragging about the enormous size of something to a handful of unimpressed looking junior and senior girls. Rebecca had located Annie and was whispering about something with her, Cartman was standing halfway between his locker and his first period class, looking confused and muttering obscenities, Bebe was gossiping with Red and Heidi, just in front of his French class, Craig was kissing Tweek goodbye until the next passing period, and right down the middle of it all a very out of breath Pip Pirrup was chasing Damien down the hallway shouting something about not setting fire to people. It was just another normal day for Kyle at South Park High School, with Stan no where in sight.

_Oh well,_ Kyle thought. _I should get to class anyhow. I'll just find him at lunch and ask him then or something._

**Author's Drabble:**

My god this is getting long. I didn't mean for it to get this long at all, and it's already at over ten pages, single spaced, on my word processor. And it's not over yet. Almost, but not yet. It's good for another chapter or two. And how did all those pairings get in there? I mean, I had the Candy coming and the fic's Style, but the rest of them just snuck themselves in. Butters/Kenny, Pip/Damien, Annie/Rebecca, Craig/Tweek, Ike/Katie... And the excessive amounts of Ike. I mean, really. I like that kid waaaayyy too much. :D Please review, if you feel keen although telling everyone you know about this fic would suffice! Nah, John Kevin, John Kevin, I jest, I jest. Oh, and I changed the rating to teen because, well, basically because Kenny's now in it. And there's a LOT more cursing.

Hope you enjoyed it!

~RadianceRose aka ainekatt


	3. Chapter 3: More Than Just Girl's Names

After four of the longest class periods ever experienced in the history of the world, the bell finally rang for lunch, serving up equal helpings of pre-frozen enchiladas, peanut butter and jelly bean sandwitches and dissapointment. Kyle eagerly raced to the cafeteria, although he never ate there and brought his own lunch, so he usually didn't have to, hoping to intercept Stan as he was buying his lunch. If he could target him early then whatever obnoxious and terrible agent of fate had been keeping the two apart for the entire day thus far would be completely foiled, or so Kyle hoped. As it happened, Stan had decided to go off campus for lunch that day, which he literally never ever did due to the fact that his allowance ended up being instantly turned into video games, graphic novels or more music for his rapidly expanding collection the very moment his parents gave him the money.

Frustrated and a little out of breath, Kyle raced about the school's minute campus asking student after student if they knew where Stan was. Not surprisingly, no one did. About fifteen minutes into lunch, Wendy suggested that Kyle try calling Stan's cellphone. _Brilliant, Kyle, _Kyle thought to himself. _I can't believe I didn't even __think__ to call him. I guess I am kind of scatter-brained today._

Kyle took his phone out from his pocket, an embarrassingly old blue flip phone with a scuffed up screen and lots of graffiti from various friends scrawled in thin black Sharpie. "One New Text Messege," the phone cheerily informed him. Kyle frowned at the phone. Why hadn't it vibrated to let him know that he'd gotten a text? _I __really__ need a new phone,_ Kyle thought to himself.

The messege was from Stan. Kyle's heart skipped a beat. _Shit, _he thought. _What if he was like, asking me to meet him, or something, and I totally blew it? _Kyle threw the phone onto the sidewalk in frustration; it skidded across the concrete and bounced into a storm drain. Kyle winced as the battery cover popped off and the battery disappeared, the phone landing in a half-melted puddle of snow slush and sputtering lightly. Kyle walked over the snow where the phone had landed, knelt, and picked it up. Well, half of it anyway. He laughed bitterly.

"Well, on the bright side, mom will really have to get me a new phone now," Kyle grumbled, trying to cheer himself up fruitlessly. He looked up, realizing that he'd wandered off of the school part of the tiny school campus and into one of South Park's three primarily retail streets, which were really all pretty much the same street all split up and given different street signs.

Just then, a shop doorbell tinkled, announcing that the shop that Kyle was closest to, a ladies clothing boutique, had just finished serving another customer. Two figures emerged from the doorway, one grinning almost sadistically beneath the fur lined hood of an orange pimp coat, the other blushing deeply and clutching desperately at the hem of her pale blue sweater dress. Kyle bit back a laugh as Kenny and the girl turned to face him. Even with the cascading curls of a shimmering new blond wig hiding most of his blushing face, Kyle would recognize Butters Stotch anywhere. Kyle, who was mostly conceiled by the boutique's sandwitch board sign, watched the couple's antics with a wide grin, the fruitless search for a particular dark haired boy for the moment forgotten. And then, Butters saw him.

Freezing dead in his tracks, Kenny's face close to his, Butters turned the deepest shade of red that Kyle had ever seen, even when he looked in the mirror.

"Oh, uh," Butters stuttered, straining in vain to escape Kenny's tight hold on his slender hips. He wriggled shyly in the taller boy's grasp for a few moments, and then, as it became obvious that escape from the complete and utter mortification of his situation was impossible, gave up, hiding his blushing face behind the satiny curls of his wig.

Kenny grinned conspiratorily and kissed Butters right on the lips, flashing a quick 'told you so' look at his red-haired friend who stood watching, slightly envious. Butters looked frantic for a moment, then, defeated, let Kenny kiss him. Kyle bit back another laugh as Butters jumped, startled, seeming to have suddenly remembered that Kyle was watching them.

Butters hid half in Kenny's arms and half behind the orange coated blond's back. "K-kenny, uh, c-c-can we go now?" he stuttered, curls tumbling haphazardly in his flushed face, one hand clutching nervously at his dress hem. "And, uh," he lowered his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, "c-can I have my pants back yet? I feel all exposed in this little dress here."

Kenny laughed roguishly. "No way, Buttery. Your legs are way too cute to cover back up so soon." Butters sighed, embarrassed and defeated, and glanced pleadingly at Kyle.

The red-head grinned, ignoring him. He wouldn't spoil Kenny's fun. Besides, it looked like Butters was actually enjoying himself too, if Kyle was any judge. "Well, I guess I did say I'd need to see it to believe it, Kenny." With a sudden impact like a ton of bricks, Kyle remembered that he had been looking for something- someone. "Oy," he said, his forehead colliding with his palm. He looked plaintively at the blond pair. "Have you guys seen Stan yet today?"

Kenny winked mischievously at him. "Oh. Yeah, we ran into him."

"Really?" Kyle asked, a little too ear gently, flushing pink at the suggestive expression Kenny was wearing. "Er… where? I have to, um, well, he, he left something at my house."

"Like his pants?" Kenny teased, his eyes dancing above an impish mouth. Kyle glared angrily at his accident-prone friend with a hostility that suggested that he wanted to add to the ever-expanding list of 'Ways Kenny McKormick Has Met His Untimely Almost-End'. "Oh, come on, Kylie," he said, rolling his eyes. _Girls name number two, _Kyle noted, frowning. "Everyone knows that you're totally hot for Stan." _NOT how I would have put it, _Kyle thought, blushing, which caused Butters to laugh nervously and say, "Oh goody. I'm not the only one embarrassed now." Kyle's dangerous hazel eyes flashed towards their greener side as he glared at Butters, who was giggling into Kenny's chest.

"Well you are," Kenny said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Anyway, he's probably still in there," he said, gesturing towards a dress shop just across the street.

Kyle looked at him skeptically. "Ha ha." "No, seriously," Kenny said, "we went in there first. Right Buttery?" Butters nodded. "Dude, I was just as surprised as you to see Stan in there window shopping for a prom dress, but whatever. I always knew you guys were fags."

Butters frowned up at the taller blond. "You know I don't like when you say that, Kenny."

"Oh yeah," Kenny kissed Butters gently and apologetically. "I forgot that bothers you."

Kyle frowned in direction of the dress shop, desperate to look away from the soft understanding that Kenny and Butters had. It bothered him to be around couples for too long. "Uh, hey, Butters?" he asked. "Was Stan really in the dress shop? Butters turned and nodded once. "Okay, thanks," Kyle said, adjusting the olive drap strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Well, see you guys later. Have fun."

Kenny grinned at Kyle and turned back to Butters, focusing his gaze on his striking blue eyes. "We will," he said, blowing gently on Butters neck, causing him to jump, startled. _Poor Butters, _Kyle thought, glancing back at the blond couple as he crossed the street. Still… Butters was enjoying himself, if Kyle was any judge. He sighed. _Well, no way to get what you want without asking, _he thought, and, taking a deep breath, he walked into the shop, a little bell tinkling to alert the manager of a new customer. They didn't seem to really care though, as no one greeted him.

Kyle looked around, finding himself completely surrounded by frills and folds, satin and silk. Flowing skirts and skirts so short that it was criminal in most countries. Kyle drew a quick breath. A farmilliar red pom-pom and black haired head appeared between a red mini skirted strapless and a sparkling, pale cerulian ball gown. Stan jumped, startled.

"Um, hey Stan."

The pair shifted uncomfortably on their feet. "Fancy seeing you here," Stan said nervously, "in a dress shop."

"Uh, yeah." Kyle's feet had never been so interesting, as had floor tiles.

"You didn't get my text, did you?"

Kyle bit his lip. "My phone had an accident right before I could," he admitted, showing the two shattered halves of the old flip phone to his friend. Stan winced, but Kyle could tell he was amused. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Stan's phone rang.

Stan recoiled. "It's Wendy," he mouthed. "She's been calling me all day practically nonstop." Kyle grinned. That could be a very good sign, if her phone calls to Stan were anything like her's with Kyle. She wasn't always particularly subtle or nice about her matchmaking, but she was definitely successful. He couldn't help but feel encouraged.

"Yeah," Stan said meekly. "Yeah, hi Wendy. Yeah, I'm actually talking with him right now." He paused, blushing. Stan's free hand was unraveling the sleeve of his worn grey hoodie nervously. "Yeah, I ran into him at the dress store by the school." A look of complete terror fell onto his face and he half shouted into the phone, "No. No! No way! Stay where you are or, uh, I'll hire trained killers! Wendy Ophelia Testaburger, if you dare-" he stopped, looking crestfallen and completely terrified. Stan looked at Kyle and squeaked out the words, "She's. Coming. Here. Right. Now."

Kyle burst out laughing, collapsing on the tile floor beneath the chemise of a lemon chiffon evening gown, howling in complete hysterics. A few of the employees looked over, concerned and slightly annoyed. A scowling Stan assured them that his friend was fine, just completely crazy and really mean. He stalked around the display and jerked Kyle off the floor, hissing into his ear, "This isn't really that funny."

Kyle restrained further laughter and pursed his lips, trying not to smile at the expression on Stan's frowning face. Stan could be so absurdly serious sometimes. "Yeah, I know," he said, biting his lip to hold back another burst of laughter as Stan folded his arms across his chest like an angry seven year old girl. "Just…" he trailed off. "Okay, actually, Stan, it is that funny. You should have seen your face!"

Stan glared at his laughing red-headed best friend. _This was so… not good. I mean, what was Wendy thinking? We could have dealt it out on our own. I mean, she seemed pretty sure he was into me too, but… seriously. I can ask him myself! _"What?" he asked, pouting like a little kid.

Kyle laughed. "It was just so adorable!" His face fell, freezing in a state of slight horror. _Oh shit. Did I really say that? Fuck. _Kyle shut his eyes tightly, grimacing. Things like this tended to slip out, but… bad timing. Really.

Just then, the bell on the door tinkled, and the thin, self-assured and thoroughly stubborn Wendy Testaburger, head of South Park High's debate team and self-declared activist and crusader for the wellbeing of the poor, the environment, civil rights, healthcare, third world countries and her classmates' and friends' love lives, strode into the dress shop, her long black hair swishing majestically over her slender shoulders in the small but fashionable wind the girl seemed to carry with her wherever she went. She glanced at the two slightly paniced looking friends, examining their faces carefully and assessing the situation deliberately. She smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. If you asked, she say that debate was her passion, but what Wendy really loved the most was setting up her friends. And truthfully, nobody minded, because they generally benefited from Wendy's actions. Wendy nibbled on the tip of a pen she always kept with her and glanced at the two boys, first Stan, the Kyle. "Lover's quarrel?" she asked finally, grinning roguishly.

Both Kyle and Stan turned brilliant red, but said nothing, although Kyle grumbled something about getting to it. Whatever **it**was. "Well," Wendy continued, walking a little closer, still chewing absently on the tip of her pencap. "I won't intterupt. Continue. If indeed, you were 'just getting to it', Kylena." Kyle looked like he was trying to drill a hole through the floor tiles with his eyes. "Go on. Just pretend I'm not here." she winked at Stan, who flinched. "Or… I'll do it for you."

Kyle looked paniced. He didn't doubt that she would. But still… the words just wouldn't come. '_I like you a lot, I think you know that, in fact, Wendy probably already told you, I'm pretty sure you like me too, will you go to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with me on Friday and then date me and all that good stuff please?' I mean honesty, _Kyle thought, exasperated. _It's not THAT hard. I mean, it shouldn't be. _And yet… it was.

Wendy mock-pouted. "I'm disappointed in you boys," she said, taking the pen out of her mouth and tapping it against a dress hanger. She turned on her heels, spinning around to face Kyle directly, black hair swooping around her shoulders and settling gently. "Okay," she said, placing a thin-fingered hand on each of Kyle's shoulders and crouching slightly, leaning over the blushing red-head's shoulder and speaking directly into Kyle's ear, "repeat after me," she said, "'Stan, you're my best friend in the whole world."

Kyle's shoulders slumped. "Stan, you're my best friend in the whole world," he repeated. Wendy smiled.

"Good," she said, beaming. "Now, say this: 'and whatever happens between us, nothing can change that.'"

"And whatever- no way, dude, that's so sappy!"

Stan looked confused and slightly impatient. Wendy shrugged, leaning back. "Okay then, Kylena, you figure out how to say it without it sounding sappy. Although honestly, a little bit of that adorable blush of your's could do wonders," her eyes sparkled mischievously, adding softly, "Stan thinks it's really cute when you blush."

As anyone could have predicted, blush is exactaley what Kyle did. _Why did anyone tell Wendy anything? She remembered it all. And used it. Sure, it might help eventually… but still… _Kyle frowned, struggling to return his skin colour to a more normal shade. At this point though, it seemed like bright red **was **his natural skin colour. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right uncomfortably, tucked a stray curl behind his ear and bit his lip. "Uh, Stan?" he said, finally, blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I can't seem to articulate what I want to eloquently enough, so in the most unpretentious way possible, I would like to catechize you thusly: would you like to, er, go to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with me on Friday?" Kyle's hair had, at this point, been paled by comparison to the colour of his face. _I want to die. I want to crawl into a hole and die. _

Stan smiled. Even if it did mean that he didn't understand half of what he was saying, he'd always thought Kyle's habit of using ridiculously large words when he was angry or embarrassed was adorable. He blushed. "Assuming you just asked me to the dance," Kyle nodded, crimson, "then yes."

Kyle's heart soared. Wendy beamed. "See," she said, readjusting the beret she was wearing- she'd switched from the lilac one she'd worn in elementary school to a black one she'd gotten from Christophe at some point back in seventh grade when she'd learned that it was more of a rebel thing to wear a black beret, "that wasn't too hard, was it?"

Kyle grinned. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, hey, hey, wait," Stan said, a slightly Wendy-like twinkle in his eyes, "I haven't stated my, uh, requirements, yet." Both Kyle and Wendy looked confused, although Wendy seemed excited for some reason. "I'm not stupid, Kyle," Stan continued, "I know what a Sadie Hawkins' dance is. It's where the girl asks the guy, right?"

Kyle nodded, completely and utterly perplexed. Wendy giggled happily and whispered something to herself that sounded suspiciously like 'he totally took the idea, oh this is so great!', which scared Kyle more than Stan's weird behavior, asking out his best friend in a dress shop or missing the beginning of Madame St. Clair's class, which he was dangerously close to doing, ever could.

"Well," Stan said, glancing at Wendy and smiling sheepishly, "I talked it over with Wendy, and we decided that, logically, the guy who asked in this kind of situation would have to play the girl's part. Because, you know, he asked."

Kyle folded his arms over his chest, considering the situation. And then, it hit him. Wendy's devilish grin, Wendy's idea, Sadie Hawkins, Stan's requirements… "Oh no, no, Stan, no way," he said, laughing nervously, "no way in hell." Wendy looked seriously close to losing it completely.

"What?" Stan asked innocently. "I think you'd look cute in a dress."

------

**Author's Drabble:**

Hey guys! Whew. Finally finished this goddamn thing. And only like… a month late for Valentine's day. Oh well. Such is life. All I have to say is this: THANK GOD FOR FREAKING WENDY. She's my hero. Seriously. I could never have done this without Wendy. It would have just failed. Because well, Stan and Kyle are too stupid and sane and modest to actually accomplish anything without crazy Wendy's help. It would have taken them waaaaaaay too long without her. Seriously. I appreciate Wendy so much.

On another note, I watched the episdoe Breast Cancer Show Ever in the middle of writing this. I think that's now one of my new favorite episodes. Wendy. Is. Such. A. Badass.

Uh… Oh yeah. The gratuitous amounts of Bunny are all for Marly, hope you liked them. I mean, if you like Bunny, then you got something from that too. But I mostly put in it for Marly. Because she's been bugging me to write some Bunny for like, ever. And. I did.

Anyway, this chapter went to like, ten pages. All by itself. I haven't combined the story's chapters yet, but it's gonna be fun to find out how many pages it covers. :D

Uh… yeah. That's about it. I wrote a bunch of this in Science class. And Japanese class. Yay me.

Signing out and finally being done with this story (yay!),

Your friend RadianceRose (aka ainekatt).

(wow, that was so official.)


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